


take his time

by DeconstructedIronhide (InsertCoolName)



Series: Sinday Drabbles [13]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BV Ironhide, IDW Warpath, Ironhide's too old for this shit but hah, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertCoolName/pseuds/DeconstructedIronhide
Summary: "What are you doing?"





	take his time

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble prompt featuring and requested by @on-the-path-2-war's Warpath. Not beta read.

“What are you doing?”

Giving Warpath a mischievous grin, Ironhide glances around to make sure they’re not being watched before carefully easing himself down to the floor beneath the table.

Almost immediately there are issues. For one thing, Ironhide is too tall and the top of his helm and finials scrape the underside of the table quite uncomfortably and noisily, so he has to awkwardly duck down to keep himself from making much racket. For another, well…

There are some things Ironhide is simply too  _ old _ to do nowadays. Sucking someone off from underneath the table is, sadly, one of those things.

But that won’t stop Ironhide from trying to give Warpath something to remember.

Shuffling over to Warpath’s side of the table, Ironhide runs a servo up his leg. The plating is tense beneath his touch, and it makes his grin grow. «Open up for me?» he asks, using his commlink so he can focus on using his mouth to nibble at the edge of a piece of armor. «I know you’re ready to, I made  _ sure  _ of it…»

Warpath hisses, wordless but audible. Ironhide chuckles, switching from nips to kisses before licking a stripe up the other mech’s leg, up towards his modesty panel, up towards--

Ironhide almost crows in victory when Warpath releases his spike from its housing. He settles for giving a quiet moan, though, and doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lipplates around the already-leaking head. Above him, Warpath curses, servos dragging against the surface of the table, earning a huff of quiet laughter from Ironhide.

After a moment of resituating himself so he’s as comfortable as he can get, Ironhide slowly takes more of the spike in before pulling back at the same agonizing pace, working his glossa along the bottom in lazy exploration.

He’s going to take his time with this.


End file.
